


how to fall in love in three easy steps

by chuwuyas



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Kissing Injuries, Kissing It Better, M/M, Minor Injuries, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, tagged teen and up for iruma and ouma's friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26485093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuwuyas/pseuds/chuwuyas
Summary: In which Saihara and Ouma engage in a frenetic “kiss it better” competition after Ouma accidentally got hurt in class. Iruma and Harukawa think they’re disgusting. Akamatsu and Amami think it’s kind of cute. Shirogane ships it. Momotadoesn'tship it. Shinguji honestly just wants a milkshake.What is Kamukura-san from class 3-A doing on that tree?[or: five times Saihara and Ouma kissed each other’s injuries better and one time they didn’t.]
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 55
Kudos: 370





	how to fall in love in three easy steps

**Author's Note:**

> YES HI HELLO IM BACK WITH MORE SAIOUMA!!!
> 
> The minor relationships are Momoharu, Amamatsu, Kiiruma and some really self-indulgent Kamukoma. All of this is really really minor, just some mentions here or there, but it's still there, so if you don't feel comfortable with any of these ships just be careful please!!!
> 
> Oh!! before I forget: the Kamukura Project is not a thing here, but Kamukura is still known as the "Ultimate Hope" because he's good at a shit ton of things (not /ultimate/ level of good but still really fucking good), which is why Ouma fucks around asking if he has random "Ultimate" talents.
> 
> Enjoy!!!

Kiss it better  
 _(idiom)  
_ _Comfort a sick or injured person by kissing the sore or injured part of their body as a gesture of removing pain. Take away the pain of an injury by kissing it._

**•••**

**Tokyo, September 2th, 2019. Monday.**

There was something about early September days that made Saihara want to lock himself deeply inside his bedroom and never leave.

 _It was the still sort-of-hot weather,_ he easily concluded as his alarm kept ringing and ringing loudly on the bedside table, its annoying song (Na Na Na, by My Chemical Romance. It was a good song, hence why he put it as his alarm. Hence why he started hating the song,) echoing painfully around his already too hot room. Even with the curtains drawn and the window closed, his room was bright enough for him to see the distinct figures of his stuff scattered around the place, including his well-ironed school uniform hanging in his closet.

Fuck.

School resumed today, huh?

At least Akamatsu wouldn’t come for his neck if he showed up wearing his hat.

Rolling on his bed until he was on his back, Saihara reached for his phone on the bedside table to turn off the alarm, grabbing his glasses on the way and quickly checking for any important texts in the class’ group chat.

(It was, of course, alive already. Mostly Iruma and Ouma bickering, Shirogane talking with Amami about some anime she binge-watched, Shinguji oddly talking about milkshake flavors and Tojo telling everyone to get ready for school, but not for the first time Saihara wondered how his classmates could be so functional and enthusiastic at eight in the morning.)

Sighing, he closed his eyes and threw an arm over his eyes to block the sunlight, careful not to dirty his glasses’ lens, trying to see which one would get to him first and win: the courage to leave his bed and get ready for school or the current sleepiness he was feeling. He hummed the song that was stuck in his head since last night as he patiently waited for the dreamland to proclaim him once again, figuring it would probably win, when his phone buzzed on his hand and snapped him awake. He blinked a couple of times before yawning and checking his phone with hazy eyes, Tojo’s name flashing on the screen with a new text.

_Tojo-san [8:12am]: I am aware that you are already awake, Saihara-kun. You are not skipping school._

_Saihara Shuichi [8:13am]: Damn_

He stared at the text for a moment before sighing again, knowing Tojo would be mad if he skipped school and he _did not_ want to make Tojo mad. Throwing his phone aside, Saihara looked up to the white ceiling above him, laying sprawled on his bed, the fluorescent stars silently staring back at him. 

He decided to leave his bed before he accidentally fell back asleep when his eyes started to get heavy again, leaving the bed with a small jump that automatically made him grimace when he felt the sweat of a hot night basically soaking his shirt.

He really hated early September days.  
  


* * *

  
How he managed to get to school without being late was a mystery, but he wasn’t gonna complain.

Everyone was already at class when he arrived, talking loudly and making a mess and giving Tojo’s premature white hair. Their teacher wasn’t there yet, what made Saihara glad; he couldn’t stand a reprimand for being late that early in the morning. Silently and trying to avoid attention, he made his way towards his usual seat, behind Akamatsu and in front of Ouma, although the latter wasn’t sitting in his usual spot –instead, he was sitting on K1-B0’s desk and antagonizing the robot while bickering with Iruma.

However, his plans of sneaking into the class unnoticed were totally destroyed as soon as the small Supreme Leader noticed him entering the class. Saihara could _see_ Ouma’s eyes practically sparkling joy as the boy’s personal favorite toy finally joined the class.

“Saihara-chan! Yoo-hoo~” Ouma called, waving his hand exaggeratedly in the air for Saihara to see him, leaning suggestively on K1-B0’s desk and slamming a hand on Iruma’s mouth to shut her up in favor of greeting the detective. The loud tone of his voice dragged some of his classmates’ attention to him, but they luckily didn’t bat a lash at him and quickly returned to whatever the hell they were doing before he arrived.

Saihara sighed, innerly pondering if he should just ignore the Supreme Leader and pretend he didn’t hear him (which he definitely did), but shoved the thought away after only a second, because he _knew_ that ignoring him would be way worse –ignoring Ouma meant that Ouma would get upset, what meant he would probably start a scene, and Saihara _did not_ want a scene at eight in the morning, so he decided to approach K1-B0’s desk and talk with him. “Good morning, Ouma-kun. How was your break?”

“The usual, y’know,” the boy shrugged indifferently, checking his nails. “Recruited two thousand more members for my evil organization, led an attack on Brazil to take down their president, became the new king of the Novoselic Kingdom, and some other things as well~. I’d love to tell you more, but if I did, I would have to kill you,” he finished with a sly smirk, index finger placed in front of his mouth like he was telling a dark secret, before crossing his legs lazily and tilting his head slightly to the side. “But that’s a lie, of course. I would never kill my beloved detective~”

“Only that part is a lie?” K1-B0 murmured with a grumble, more to himself than to the others, but Saihara heard it anyway. He let out a soft chuckle.

Ouma looked like he was slapped in the face with Saihara’s chuckle, tears starting to form in his eyes. Uh-oh. “You don’t believe me, Saihara-chan?” He said, voice breaking in the middle of the sentence, bringing one hand to squeeze his shirt over his heart as the crocodile tears started to flow. “I never told a single lie, ever, in my life. How can you be so mean?”

Ah, there was the scene Saihara was trying to avoid. Of course.

He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything Ouma broke eye contact and looked at Iruma so fast that Saihara was afraid his neck would snap. It was only then that he noticed Ouma still had his hand over Iruma’s mouth.

“Lick my hand like a desperate dog again and I will literally gag you, ask Shinguji-chan to tie you up so you can’t move and then tie your skirt around your head so everyone can see the filthy whore you are.”

Saihara unfortunately got to hear Iruma moaning before he sneaked out of the scene, hurrying to sit behind Akamatsu in his usual seat and ignoring Ouma’s and K1-B0’s screeching in order to maintain his remaining sanity. He pulled his stuff out of his backpack and arranged them over his desk before looking up at his best friend to properly greet her, almost gasping out loud when he found her glaring daggers at him. It took him a hot second to realize why she was staring at him so intensely.

“Oh,” he said with a soft giggle, pushing his glasses back to the bridge of his nose before touching the tip of his hat. “It’s sunny outside.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, like she was considering his excuse. “You’re on thin ice, Shuichi.”

He giggled again, and then their homeroom teacher finally arrived.

Everyone was forced back into their assigned seats when their teacher arrived, so Ouma was sitting behind him in a second, humming a random song and moving his legs childishly under his desk.

“Hey, Saihara-chan,” Ouma called, poking Saihara’s neck to draw his attention. Saihara could feel the boy twisting a strand of his hair on his fingers.

“Mm?” He replied, not quite turning around to face the boy but still looking at him from over his shoulder.

Ouma was smiling, resting his chin on one hand and playing with the strand of Saihara’s hair with the other. “How was _your_ break?”

Saihara hummed, contemplative. He opened his notebook and started writing what the teacher was writing on the whiteboard as he replied: “Solved some small crimes with my uncle, talked to my parents through FaceTime… The usual. Nothing too interesting.”

“I think this is interesting,” Ouma replied, promptly ignoring what their teacher was writing on the whiteboard in favor of keeping playing with that one strand of Saihara’s hair. “But this might be because I’m slightly biased towards you~”

Saihara could feel the heat coming to his cheeks and ears, tainting his pale skin with red. Honestly, only twenty minutes into school and Ouma was already teasing him. Unbelievable.

“Eh? Saihara-chan is blushing? But why?” Ouma gasped, sounding actually surprised, like he didn’t do exactly what he was planning to do. Saihara knew he was not. “Could it be… Because Saihara-chan... Likes me?”

“No, I do not,” Saihara grumbled, because he did not –he was simply easily provoked, and it was way too early for teasing; Saihara legally did not work properly before noon. “Stop teasing me.”

“But teasing Saihara-chan is just so fun~” Saihara didn’t look at Ouma, but he knew he was pouting. He could _hear_ it.

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara sighed, grumbling lowly. “Please, stop.”

From his peripheral vision, he could see Harukawa glaring daggers at Ouma, squeezing her pencil with anger. “Do you want me to silence him, Saihara?” She asked in a low but angry voice as soon as she saw that he noticed her. Ouma must’ve done something after she said that, probably sticking his tongue out at her, because Harukawa’s deathly glare became even deadlier. _“Permanently?”_

Saihara sighed, choosing to ignore them. _Eight in the morning.  
_ **  
**

 **-x-  
**  
  
Somehow, the rest of their morning classes went relatively smoothly. That is, as smoothly as a class with Ouma Kokichi, Iruma Miu, Momota Kaito and Shirogane Tsumugi could go. But no murders occurred and no one was injured, so Saihara took that as a good sign –thank goodness for that; it was way too soon for something to happen. Saihara didn’t know if he could handle a big mess on their first day back at school.

He had lunch under the refreshing shadow of a large tree in the school’s campus with Akamatsu, Amami, Momota and Harukawa, as always, proudly wearing his “Official Third (sixth?)-Wheel of the Squad” title. In the distance, he could see Iruma and K1-B0 having lunch with Souda and Fujisaki. Even further, Ouma with Komaeda, Togami and Kamukura. The rest of their class was also around, scattered around the campus, some also with people from the others classes and some by themselves (Shirogane, for example, was friends with Yamada from class 3-B and Nanami and Hinata from class 3-A and usually spent lunch with them, but they were all apparently absent today so she was alone. Saihara considered making her an honorary member of his squad for today like he always did with some of his classmates so they wouldn’t be alone, but lunch was already ending).

After lunch was finally over and he was back in class, Saihara sat down in his seat and patiently waited for the next class to begin, putting his earbuds on and starting his playlist as he lazily eyed his friends gradually returning from lunch and filling the room with loud conversations and pierce giggles. Humming the song playing in his earbuds, he closed his eyes and started unconsciously dozing off to the rhythm of the song and his friends’ now muffled conversations, supporting his head on his hand and tapping his fingers on the desk.

He must’ve really dozed off at some point, because he was suddenly snapped awake by two palms hitting the desk loudly behind him followed by a loud shout of “Saihara-chan!”

Saihara gasped, widening his eyes towards the boy now giggling at the desk behind him. “O-Ouma-kun!”

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I didn’t mean to~” Ouma sing-songed, sitting on his desk and smiling innocently at him. He held that smile for about a minute before pouting and grumbling. “I’m bored, Saihara-chan.”

“Mhm,” Saihara nodded, closing back his eyes but taking off one earbud so he could hear Ouma and sitting sideways, resting one elbow on the boy’s desk and his chin on his hand.

“Well? Entertain me!” Ouma grumbled louder, poking his arm, but Saihara didn’t open his eyes.

“How?”

There was a fuss next to him, on Ouma’s desk, like he was fumbling with something. A sound of a zipper being opened, then pencils clinking together, and a palm slamming against the desk.

“A game!”

“A game?” Saihara echoed, furrowing his eyebrows. Only then he opened his eyes, looking towards Ouma. “What sort of-”

He cut himself in the middle of his sentence, any signals of sleepiness vanishing from his brain as he widened his eyes at Ouma and the scene about to happen in front of him.

Ouma, with his usual sly smirk on his lips, and his fingers wide spread apart on the desk.

_“W-What-”_

“Oh, the knife game!” Shirogane said from her seat behind Ouma, leaning over her desk so she could see him. “I’m really good at it.” 

“The knife game is usually played with... You know, a _knife,”_ Harukawa commented from her seat, eyeing Ouma unbothered as he twisted a scissor in his index finger. Iruma hummed in agreement, sitting over Harukawa’s desk with a curious expression.

“Don’t encourage him!” Saihara said exasperatedly. “Even without a knife, it’s dangerous!”

“Well, _yes,_ Harukawa-chan, but I don’t have a knife right now and it’s not that funny to play it with a pen, so a scissor will do,” Ouma replied Harukawa as unbothered as her, promptly ignoring Saihara, shrugging. “Unless you have a knife with you that you’re willing to borrow me, miss Ultimate Assa-”

“Finish this sentence and I’ll gladly show you my Ultimate talent.”

“Uuuh, so scary~” Ouma giggled, twisting the scissor in his finger again before clearing his throat. He moved slightly to the side so Shirogane could see him play it. “Anyways. _There’s an old tradition-”_

Saihara stared with widened eyes as Ouma started the knife game already at a dangerous speed, the sound of the sharp tip of the scissor hitting the desk beneath his hand barely louder than Ouma’s voice happily singing the song.

 _“I have all my fingers, the scissor goes chop chop chop,”_ Ouma happily sang the song, changing the lyrics to adjust to his own game, making Shirogane giggle. Saihara couldn’t look away from Ouma’s hand, heart beating faster each time the scissor passed through his fingers without touching them. “Chop chop chop chop chop-”

_Chop._

_“Ouch.”_

“Ouma-kun!”

Saihara quickly jumped off his seat when the scissor went chop, grabbing Ouma’s hand when the boy dropped the scissor to inspect the wound. It was just a small cut on the side of his ring finger on the left hand, but it was already bleeding.

“Tch,” Iruma clicked her tongue, not removing the lollipop from her mouth to do so. “Fuckin’ idiot.”

“Shut up, ugly pig,” Ouma hissed, then looked at Saihara and smiled. Saihara knew it was forced. “It’s okay, Saihara-chan. It didn’t even hurt.”

Saihara ignored him, pushing Ouma up by his arm so he could stand. “No, you’re bleeding.”

Ouma rolled his eyes. “Yes, Saihara-chan. It’s usually what happens when you get hurt.”

“I’m taking him to the infirmary,” Saihara addressed to the girls watching him, ignoring Ouma. “Tell Yamaguchi-sensei.”

Harukawa nodded. “Will do.”

Shirogane raised a finger. “Oh! But I think Tsumiki-san is not here today.”

“No problem,” Saihara shook his head. “Thank you, Shirogane-san.”

Without prolonging the conversation even more, Saihara grabbed Ouma’s wrist and pushed him towards the exit of the class, ignoring Iruma’s “ooh” as he did. Once they reached the infirmary, he noticed that Tsumiki truly was not there today, just like Shirogane said, but Saihara wouldn’t need her. He could take care of this by himself.

He sat Ouma on one of the infirmary beds and went to the cabinet to look for a first-aid kit. He found one after some fumbling, returning to the bed right away, sitting by Ouma’s side on the bed, carefully grabbing the boy’s hand to clean up his wounded finger. Ouma let him, still humming the knife song as Saihara wiped the blood away, moving his legs childishly in the air, giggling to mask up the fact he was hissing.

“I told you it was dangerous,” Saihara sighed, finishing the cleaning work and moving to grab a gauze bandage. He gently started to wrap it around Ouma’s finger.

Ouma giggled. “I had one thousand swords impaled to my body once. A small cut is nothing.”

Saihara widened his eyes, stopping. “You had a _what-”_

“Besides, it didn’t even hurt that much,” Ouma interrupted him, lazily waving his hand dismissively in the air, trying to sound indifferent. Saihara stared at Ouma’s face in silence for a moment, remembering the hisses Ouma was trying to mask as he cleaned up his wound and how his eyes widened immediately after he got hurt, how the blade of the scissor was probably blunt and yet it managed to cut his skin. Then, looking down at the wounded finger, Saihara stared at the dot of blood tainting the white gauze bandage; Ouma was _definitely_ lying there. The wound probably stung, even if just a little.

An old memory flashed in his mind, something his mother used to do when he was a child. Something silly, but that seemed to work back then.

So, after finishing bandaging Ouma’s wounded finger, Saihara moved before even realizing what he was doing.

He grabbed Ouma’s hand, brought it closer to his face and placed a gentle kiss over the bandaged finger.

He only realized the mistake he'd made once it was already done.

Saihara froze immediately after his sense returned to him, his lips still hovering Ouma’s bandaged finger, eyes slightly widened.

It was Ouma’s screech that snapped him out of it.

_“Eh?!”_

“U-uh,” Saihara’s eyes widened even further, almost to the point it was comical.

_“Eeeeh?!”_

“I’m s-sorry!”

“Why did you do that?!”

“I-It’s just! My mom used to do this when I was a kid!” Saihara tried to explain himself, because he knew that Ouma would not buy it if he told him that he did it without noticing. “It’s supposed to take away the pain!”

“I-I told you it wasn’t hurting!”

“The scissor was blunt! It’s probably stung a little!”

“Shut up! Both of you!”

Ouma and Saihara immediately stopped arguing in favor of looking at the third party that neither of them noticed that was there until now. Ouma’s eyes immediately lit up in excitement and any signal of the previous blush present in his cheeks disappeared.

“Momota-chan!”

Saihara blinked. “Kaito?”

“Hey,” Momota said, laying down in one of the infirmary beds, an arm thrown over his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Saihara asked, curiously. It was only then that he noticed that Momota truly wasn’t present when Ouma got hurt in class.

Momota grumbled, eyes closed. “Got a headache. Tojo-san gave me some medicine and told me to rest,” he grumbled again, this time a little angrier than before. “Which I _was_ doing, until you two showed up and started screaming.”

“Ah, sorry, we’re- um, we’re leaving now,” Saihara said, jumping off the infirmary bed and grabbing Ouma’s wrist to pull him up as well. He then stopped, stared and pushed his glasses backwards. “Unless- unless you want me to stay with you until you feel better? I don’t mind.”

“Nah, it’s okay bro,” Momota waved a dismissing hand, eyes still closed. “I’ll be back in a minute, don’t worry about me.”

Saihara stared at him for a minute, contemplative, then sighed and shrugged. “If you say so.”

Momota gave him a small nod, grimacing as he did so, probably because of his headache, before Saihara and Ouma finally left the infirmary.

Once they were alone again, Saihara remembered his slip up and immediately started blushing again in embarrassment, heart beating fast in his chest. He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses back again, pinching the tip of his nose. Ouma was uncharacteristically silent beside him, probably feeling the same way.

Neither of them said anything as they returned to their classroom.  
  


* * *

  
It took Ouma some good three days before he went back to his normal, annoying self.

In some parts, it was good to finally have some peace at school, in terms of not having the resident gremlin (Iruma’s words, not his) trying to get on his nerves with all his might at eight in the morning. In others, it felt weird and off for the exact same reason. Whether he liked it or not, Saihara grew used to Ouma's antics.

So, when he stepped into the school four days after the infirmary incident and was greeted with the good old joyful “Saihara-chan!”, Saihara couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

“Morning, Ouma-kun,” Saihara told him, sitting down on his usual seat and placing his backpack over his desk. Ouma was quick to place himself next to it, smiling widely. Saihara noticed that his finger was still wrapped around with a bandage. “I think you can stop using the bandage now.”

“Oh, this?” Ouma said, smiling naughtily, placing his index finger in front of his mouth in his usual I’m-About-To-Lie way. “This isn’t because of my casual slip up from some days ago, my beloved Saihara-chan. I’m actually wearing this because Kuzuryuu-chan from class 3-A gave me a Yakuza tattoo and I’m hiding it~”

Saihara tilted his head to the side, his glasses slipping to the tip of his nose as he did so. “If he gave you a tattoo, wouldn’t you want to show it? Why hide it?”

Ouma stared at him in silence for a moment, lips pressed in a thin line before opening a wide smile that Saihara could only describe as ‘proud’. “Not if he told me to hide it. But you’re right, Saihara-chan, that was actually a lie. You’re getting really good at unmasking my lies, aren’t you?” He said, smile still wide and soft, before his expression went from proud to naughty and Saihara immediately knew what was coming. Ouma put his index finger in front of his lips again, smirking. “Could it be... Because you’re in love… With me?”

Saihara sighed, already missing the few days free of teasing he managed to have. “I am not,” he said. “Sometimes it's just easy to call out your lies.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Ouma scoffed, rolling his eyes and waving a dismissive hand before raising an eyebrow, pointing at Saihara’s apparent eye bags. “That is, _if_ you sleep at night.”

The detective scoffed, suddenly awfully aware of his eye bags and the sleepless night he had last night. They surprisingly fell into a comfortable silence after that, watching their classmates slowly filling the classroom (Saihara was actually _not_ late today, for the record) and waiting for the class to officially begin. When Ouma engaged in a conversation with Amami and Akamatsu, still sitting on Saihara’s desk, Saihara put on his earbuds and pressed play on his playlist. Being careful not to bend or dirty his glasses as he rested his forehead on his crossed arms over the desk, he closed his eyes and quietly hummed the lyrics of the song he chose, feeling the lack of sleep from last night coming to him in hot waves.

He didn’t quite move when he felt Ouma taking off his hat and gently stroking his scalp, facilitating his journey towards the dreamland.  
  


**-x-  
  
**

Saihara couldn’t say he was fond of P.E. Class, but his teacher was nice enough to let him skip it every time they had it, so he used this free time to go through the files his uncle sent him about unsolved police cases.

The sun was scorching in the sky, but the shadow of the tree he was sitting under was refreshing and comfortable enough so he could stay outside without being burned to death, although even the refreshing shadow the tree offered was not enough to keep him from sweating like crazy; why the hell was it so hot for, anyways? It was almost mid-September, for fuck’s sake. The air should _at least_ be cool enough for people to walk outside their houses without risking getting burned to a crisp.

By his left side, Shirogane played Uno with Amami and Akamatsu surprisingly in silence (that is, as silent as a person could be playing Uno), considering the fact Akamatsu was almost winning. By his right side, Ouma sat cross-legged in the grass as he licked on a blue popsicle, his hair tied in a low ponytail with the two frontal strands loosen and an oddly wild strand at the top of his head that comically reminded him of himself and Akamatsu. Ouma’s hair had grown longer during Summer Break, Saihara noticed; the tips now went just past his shoulders, and the tip of his fringe almost touched his chin. The purple-dyed tips were faded, too, now more of a pinkish color than purple. His few freckles were also more apparent, probably because of the hot weather, dirtying his nose with small dots.

He looked, uh… Cute. It suited him.

Saihara only noticed that he was probably staring when he saw Akamatsu through his peripheral vision, smirking suggestively at him. He blinked away his cockeye and silently cleared his throat, blushing a little when Akamatsu’s smirk became even bigger and naughtier, ignoring her and going back to his files. Licking his fingers, Saihara quietly leafed through the papers.

Only to curse under his breath when one of the paper suddenly cut the tip of his index finger.

 _“Ouch,”_ he hissed, immediately putting his finger inside his mouth to assuage the sharp pain that ran through his hand.

All the other people with him turned to look at him. “What happened?” Amami asked.

“Paper cut,” Saihara replied, taking his finger out of his mouth to check on it. It was a pretty superficial cut, right in the middle of his digit and red with small traces of blood. It would heal in a day or two.

“Is it hurting?” Ouma curiously asked, grabbing Saihara’s hand to look at the small wound.

Saihara hummed an agreement. “A little, yeah, but paper cuts usually hurt. Not a big-”

His words died in his mouth as Ouma moved his hand closer to his face, held his injured index finger up.

And softly kissed the wounded digit.

_“Eh?!”_

He widened his eyes comically and gasped under his breath when he felt Ouma’s cold lips touching his warm digit, and although the contact was not even longer than a second or two, he felt his cheeks burning red and heartbeat increasing as he locked eyes with petite Supreme Leader, who was looking at him through his long lashes with an expression that Saihara found hard to put a name to –amusement? Provocation? Presumption?

_Dare?_

The contact of Ouma’s cold lips against his digit lasted for about a second or two, and Ouma quickly returned to licking his popsicle after it was over like nothing had happened. Saihara stared at him in bewilderment, too shocked to say anything, promptly ignoring Amami’s and Akamatsu’s “awwn” and Shirogane’s mumblings of “indirect kiss! Indirect kiss!” as he stared at the boy. Did he just-

“To make it feel better.” Ouma said with a smirk behind his popsicle, like he just read Saihara’s mind, eyes sparkling with amusement. “We’re even now, Saihara-chan~”

And Saihara, because he didn’t know what else to do or say, just did what he did the best.

He hid his burning hot face behind his papers, squeaked and tried to ignore his friends’ giggles and chorus of “how cute” as they teased him.  
  


* * *

  
It became some sort of competition, or course, because Ouma Kokichi and Saihara Shuichi were just like that.

At first, Saihara wasn’t really into the competition, to be honest –he thought it was silly and needless and a waste of time, but then he started to get annoyed at Ouma always proudly wearing that smug grin and saying that he was winning after Saihara got hurt again a few days after the paper cut incident (Chabashira-san accidentally hit him in the face when she was showing Yumeno some fighting moves. Ouma waited until they were alone to kiss Saihara’s cheek better), so he decided to play along.

It started innocently and silly, because the entire “kiss it better” situation was silly itself. One of them would get hurt, the other would wait until they were alone or until the one who got hurt was distracted to kiss the injured place better and make them flustered. Ouma playing dangerous games and injuring his hands, Saihara with his paper cuts, accidental slaps in the face, accidental _punches_ in the face, Iruma’s inventions going wrong and causing them to get hurt, and so on. Most of the time, the injuries weren’t even visible. Sometimes, they couldn’t even be considered injuries (like that one time Saihara slammed his hands on his desk in excitement. It didn’t even hurt and it was on purpose, but Ouma still kissed both of his palms. _Sweet)._ But they went on with the competition like they were fighting for their lives.

And then, three weeks later, they got so used to the competition that it became some sort of habit. They started to kiss the other’s injuries better without even noticing –sore wrists and fingers from writing for too long, accidental paper cuts, a bruised knee from falling during P.E. Class, aching elbows because of an accidental run into the doors, burned fingers from holding a too hot cup of tea. It was casual, natural, almost like an inner instinct they couldn’t overcome.

And Saihara was starting to grow fond of those casual kisses.

But, honestly, could you actually blame him?

Thinking about it, it wasn’t _that_ weird of him to start growing attached to those kisses, the competition, even though it was more of a habit now rather than an actual competition. They were always soft, tender and innocent, and they always made his chest warm and his heart skip a beat. He figured that anyone in his situation would feel the same, for it was just _natural._ At some point, Saihara started looking forward to getting hurt, just so he could get the kisses. 

(Now, let him explain himself. It wasn’t because he was getting fond of those kisses that he was getting fond of _Ouma,_ nuh-uh. If it was anyone else engaging in this competition with him and giving his injuries “get better” kisses, he would still feel the same. It was about the _feeling_ of being cared for and feeling loved, not the person themselves, yes?)

Still, even though they were obviously okay with it, they tried not to be too obvious about the “kiss it better” competition itself, at least not around their classmates (save from Shirogane, Amami and Akamatsu who saw Ouma kissing Saihara’s paper cut better some weeks ago). They figured it would be better to keep it to themselves. The competition felt more real this way.

But _man,_ if Saihara was not a _really_ bad actor.

(He just couldn’t help blushing when Ouma was smiling and flirting with him, okay? Not that big of a deal.)

Iruma and Harukawa honestly thought they were _disgusting._ Saihara could _see_ it in their eyes. Even though they didn’t engage in the competition around their friends, Saihara could _tell_ that both Iruma and Harukawa knew that something was up between them.

 _It was the way they stared at them during class,_ Saihara naturally concluded. Displeasingly, from Harukawa’s part, and naughtly, from Iruma’s. Every time Saihara and Ouma unconsciously moved closer to each other when sitting side by side, every time they looked a little bit too long in each other’s direction, every time one of them giggled at an inner joke between them. Every time, Saihara could feel two pairs of eyes digging holes in the back of his head. It was kind of uneasy, but also sort of funny.

And Ouma _loved_ antagonizing Harukawa and Iruma _exactly_ because of that.

 _He did on purpose,_ Saihara figured. Not that he was surprised _at all_ when he arrived at this conclusion _._ It was simply Ouma's character to get under someone's skin for shits and giggles, Saihara learned not to bat an eye at him a long time ago.

Which is why Ouma decided to move on from antagonizing _him_ to _using_ him to antagonize other people.

And Saihara, because he was a goddamn idiot, let him.

Ouma started getting awfully clingy during their classes, especially if they were around Iruma and Harukawa (and sometimes Momota, too, because Ouma once told him that Momota gave him the best reactions. Ouma said he was trying to see how far he would have to go to make Momota cry) just to annoy them. Ouma was now spending most of his time flirting openly and loudly with Saihara in class even more than he already did, just to see which one of their friends would snap first –he was betting on Harukawa, but Saihara would beg to differ. Iruma was definitely more likely to explode first.

But the thing is, the shameless flirting wasn’t affecting only Harukawa and Iruma, but Saihara himself as well.

He knew it was only for shits and giggles, only so he could annoy the fuck out of their classmates with PDA, but Saihara figured it was a normal reaction, to start getting affected by the shameless flirting. A natural consequence. An unavoidable situation. _Especially_ for Saihara, who was basically a walking ball of anxiety and took everything people said to him personally. He knew it was a lie, he knew it was just a joke, but Saihara couldn’t help but feel his cheeks burning red and his chest warming up every time Ouma told him he loved him and that he was his favorite.

And then there was the entire “kiss it better” competition with all the tender kisses being placed over his injuries and the soft smiles and soft giggles and-

_Fuck._

Saihara might be enjoying this just a _little_ too much.

“Oi, Saihara-kun.”

Saihara blinked, turning off his daydreaming for now and focusing on the voice immediately in front of him. Amami.

“Are you okay?”

Saihara blinked again, nodding. “Yeah yeah. Just dozed off for a bit, sorry. What were you saying?”

Before Amami could have the opportunity to reply, Ouma cut him by throwing his arms around Saihara’s shoulders, hugging him from behind and resting his chin over Saihara’s head. “Whaaat? Does Saihara-chan think about me so much that he forgets about everything else? I don’t know if I should be flattered or scared~~”

“Shush, I was not thinking about you,” Saihara lied, trying to sound convincing, but he knew that the slight blush on his cheeks probably gave away his lie. What a traitor, he couldn’t trust his own body. Unbelievable. “What were we talking about?”

It was Iruma who replied, taking the lollipop out of her mouth with a loud ‘pop’ before pointing at him with said lollipop, her legs resting over her desk. “The fuckin’ project, Suckhara. While you were busy being gay inside your head, we discussed the project.”

Saihara blinked _again._ “The project…?”

“Oh my fuckin’ God,” Iruma said. “The Science project? We have to perform something for the entire school?”

“Oh,” Saihara said. _“This_ project. Okay, so what did we get?”

Saihara couldn’t see him, but he could _feel_ that Ouma had one of his smug smirks on his lips. “This filthy whore wants to do a human sized dildo, don’t you, Iruma-chan?”

“E-eh?! N-no! Fuck you!”

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara sighed. “Be nice.”

“Aw,” once again, Saihara could _feel_ Ouma pouting. “But it’s so funny to annoy this dirty pig.”

_“Ouma-kun.”_

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop. But only because I love you so much, Saihara-chan~~”

“S-stop this too,” Saihara grumbled, looking down at his lap for his hair to fall on his face and luckily cover the blush tainting his cheeks. He pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose when it slid down to the tip of it. “What are you doing here, anyway? You’re not in our group.”

“I came here to see you, of course!” Ouma happily replied, finally letting go of Saihara’s shoulders in order to jump over his desk instead. Luckily, neither Yamaguchi-sensei nor Tojo-san were in the class at that moment, otherwise Ouma would get in trouble. “Shinguji-chan’s group is soooo boring. Hoshi-chan is not funny to mess with and Shinguji-chan keeps mumbling about wanting a milkshake. Your group is waaaay nicer, but only because you’re in it.”

Saihara grumbled, hiding his face behind his hands. Amami giggled softly, Iruma cursed under her breath. _“O-Ouma-kun.”_

“Miss me with your gay bullshit,” Iruma grunted, shooing Ouma with her hands. “Shoo shoo, get out of here. Imma ask the headmaster to transfer Soudick to our class and send you to theirs.”

Ouma threw his arms lazily behind his head, raising an eyebrow and smirking. “Are you _sure_ you want me and Nagito-chan in the same class?”

 _“Fuck, no,”_ Iruma replied under her breath. “Imma ask for Fujisack then.”

“Yes, and I’ll be in the same class as Enoshima-chan,” Ouma smirked even wider. “Besides, you forgot about one tiny detail.”

Iruma blinked. “Wh-”

“They’re both third years and we’re second years, you stupid, shit-for-brains cum dumpster.”

“C-cum dumpster?!”

“Okay, enough,” Amami sighed, raising his hands in defeat. Ouma and Iruma reluctantly stopped glaring at each other like they were about to jump at each other’s necks, and if Saihara didn’t know that Iruma and Ouma were actually best friends, he would’ve thought they actually hated each other.

“Whatever,” Ouma shrugged indifferently and stuck out his tongue at her as Iruma humphed. Then, he jumped off the desk he was still standing over.

Only to trip once his feet hit the ground and lose his balance, hitting a desk head-first loudly before falling to the floor.

Saihara immediately felt his soul leaving his body as he watched Ouma falling in slow-motion, followed by a dead silence once he hit the floor.

_“... Ouch.”_

“Ouma-kun!”

He quickly stood and ran towards Ouma, who was lying on his stomach sprawled on the floor, silent, looking… Uh, pretty dead. Ouma looked pretty dead.

“O-Ouma-kun?” Saihara silently asked once he kneeled down next to him on the floor, pulling a strand of purple hair away from Ouma’s face so he could see him. Thank God, his eyes were open and he seemed to be breathing. _Not dead._

“Is he okay?” Iruma asked from somewhere behind him, concern apparent in her voice. “Why does he look dead? He looks dead. Is he dead?”

“Damn, I wish that were me,” Hoshi commented with a sigh. Someone giggled, someone hissed under their breath telling him to shut up.

“Ouma-kun?” Saihara tried again, brushing Ouma’s hair away from his face again. Ouma was still facing forward with glassy eyes. “A-are you okay?”

“Leave me alone,” Ouma whimpered silently, seeming to be on the verge of tears. Saihara gasped.

_“W-what?!”_

“Leave me alone to die, because that’s what I’m gonna do,” Ouma repeated, some tears starting to stream down his face. Saihara’s heart started beating faster –did he get a concussion? He didn’t seem to have hit his head too hard, but it was still a possibility, yes? “I’m gonna die from utter embarrassment. A Supreme Leader of evil, the great boss of an organization with more than fifth-thousand members, an evil dictator, falling on his face like a baby pony. How utterly embarrassing.”

Saihara sighed in relief, along with some others of his classmates. Ouma was okay.

Ouma started giggling, the tears that were previously streaming down his face now magically gone. Saihara still helped him stand and supported him when Ouma blinked a couple of times and almost lost his balance again once he was back on his feet.

“Are you okay?” Saihara asked again, standing in front of him and holding both of Ouma’s arms to keep his balance.

Ouma hummed an agreement and nodded, although he did make a grimace when he did so. “Just gucci.”

Saihara hummed back and nodded too, but still lifted Ouma’s fringe to check on his forehead. There was a predominant reddish spot that would probably bruise and swell up in a day or so, but there weren't any cuts or traces of blood anywhere, so Saihara figured he would be fine.

Leaning forward, Saihara easily placed a quite long kiss on Ouma’s forehead, closing his eyes as he did so, figuring an actual injury would need a kiss longer than usual. After the kiss was over, he dropped Ouma’s fringe and quickly combed it with his fingers to fix the messy strands before stepping away from him.

It wasn’t until he saw Ouma’s terrified face that he realized the deadly silence surrounding them, and it wasn’t until he noticed the deadly silent classroom that he realized he’d made yet another mistake.

Freezing in place, Saihara widened his eyes as big as Ouma’s. 

He slipped and kissed Ouma’s injury better in front of their entire goddamn class when they had agreed to keep the competition private.

Well, _shit._

“Oh my fuckin’ God,” came Iruma’s voice after an entire minute or so of absolute silence. Saihara wasn’t brave enough to turn around and face their classmates. “Oh my fuckin’ God, so you two _are_ fucking. Holy _shit-”_

“N-no!” Saihara said in a comically high-pitched voice, turning on his heels and frantically shaking his hands. “It’s not what it looks like!”

“Holy shit, you’re _totally_ fucking,” Iruma concluded, letting out a wheeze. “I thought it was just Cockichi fuckin’ around with you like the little bitch he is, but you two are actually _fuckin’_ fuckin’. Holy _shit-”_

“We’re not fucking!” Saihara tried to argue, but the way his voice was strangled and broke in the last word _did not_ help with this situation. “We’re just- this is just- we’re just-”

“Geez, Saihara-chan, do you hate me so much that you can’t form a single sentence under pressure?” Ouma asked with a scoff, rolling his eyes. If Saihara wasn’t so close to him, he would’ve missed the slight shake in his words.

“I do not hate you!”

“Oh?” Ouma blinked, then rested an elbow on the closest desk and leaned over, raising an eyebrow. “So does that mean you’re actually… In love with me?”

Saihara wheezed. “I’m not!”

“Enough with the nasty flirting, I’m gonna vomit,” Harukawa interviewed with a sigh, Iruma nodded and grumbled, Shirogane squeaked, Akamatsu and Amami giggled, Shinguji murmured something under his breath and Momota seemed to be on the verge of tears –which was funny, considering the last time Saihara saw him cry was when Ouma and Komaeda from class 3-A joined forces and told him that the moon landing was faked and the Earth was flat. “Saihara, take him to the infirmary to check on his head. I’ll tell Yamaguchi-sensei.”

“Oho what’s this? Harukawa-chan is actually worried about me?” Ouma said with a smug smirk, but quickly took it back when Harukawa shot him a deathly glare. He giggled. “Okay okay. I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. No need to go to the infirmary.” As if to prove his point, Ouma gave some small jolts in place, only to widen his eyes and hold Saihara’s shoulder for support when his vision blackened and he almost fell. “... Actually, I think I’ll accept the offer.”

Saihara sighed, holding Ouma’s arm to support him, then turned to face his classmates. “I’ll take him to the infirmary. _Again.”_

Ouma didn’t complain when Saihara started pulling him towards the exit of the class, just leaned closer and appreciated Saihara holding him. Once they were outside the classroom, Ouma fell silent and started whimpering quietly.

Saihara didn’t say a word as he led them towards the infirmary.  
  


* * *

  
Saihara wanted to stop with the competition after the last injury because it scared the shit out of him, but Ouma insisted that it was fine and that he wanted to proceed with it, so Saihara reluctantly complied. Luckily, Ouma seemed to grow a little more wary of his surroundings after he got hurt, so now Saihara could at least sigh in relief.

It didn’t make him less worried, though.

It was just that Ouma seemed to _attract_ trouble. Anywhere he went, trouble followed, and Saihara could _feel_ himself getting physically older every time Ouma almost got run over by a car, almost fell over the stairs, almost got hit in the face by a baseball ball, almost got _sliced in half_ by Pekoyama-san from class 3-A, almost got beaten up by Chabashira because he scared or annoyed her or Yumeno. Ouma, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care at all.

Saihara would grow white hair by the end of the year if Ouma kept with the reckless behavior.

“Please, be careful,” Saihara grumbled for the nth time in the day after Ouma almost fell off the guardrails of the second floor of the school. Ouma giggled, regained his balance and kept balancing his weight over the guardrail, holding Saihara's hand for support. Saihara squeezed his hand firmly after Ouma almost tripped and fell again. _“Ouma-kun.”_

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Ouma giggled, moving forward in the guardrail. Saihara had no choice other than to keep following him, holding his left hand tightly for support. In Saihara’s left hand, he held his lunch package and some files of a case his uncle asked for help with. “Say, Saihara-chan. Any plans for lunch?”

Saihara hummed negatively. Amami, Akamatsu, Momota and Harukawa were probably waiting for him already, sitting by their usual spot under that huge tree with the nice shadow. Saihara was only late for lunch because Ouma said he wanted his help with something. “Same as always, the others are probably waiting for me already. Why?”

Ouma’s eyes lit up in excitement. “Well, my beloved detective, Would you join me and my fellow companions on an adventure?”

Saihara helped Ouma jump off the guardrails, blinking when the petite Supreme Leader stood in front of him with a wide grin. “An adventure?”

“Well, you see. Nagito-chan’s boyfriend went missing and no one can tell where the hell he is, not even his brother, so we’re gonna look for him. Fancy joining us?”

“Uh, sure…? But why?”

Ouma shrugged. “I figured we could use your Ultimate Detective’s talent for this case, since Izuru-chan is really good at hide and seek. Do you think he has an _Ultimate Hide and Seek Pro_ talent?”

Saihara hummed again, then looked over Ouma’s shoulder towards the outside of the school building, where people met up for lunch. This is what Ouma wanted? “Izuru, you say? Kamukura Izuru?”

“Yeah, Nagito-chan’s boyfriend and Hajime-chan’s twin brother. Did you know Nagito and Hajime had a thing before he started dating Izuru? I _swear_ this dog wanted to get in the Hinata family at all costs-”

“I don’t think we’ll need to look for him,” Saihara interrupted Ouma. Ouma looked up at him, frowned.

“Why?”

Saihara didn’t reply, just pointed with his chin through the window at somewhere outside the school. Ouma’s frown furthered a little before he followed Saihara’s gaze, finding what the detective was staring at.

It was Kamukura, sitting on a tree next to the dining hall’s entrance. Saihara only knew it was him at this distance because he had his back at them and his almost 6 ft long pitch-black hair was loose and flowing with the wind. Saihara only knew one person in this forsaken school who had an almost 6 ft long pitch-black hair and was weird enough to climb a tree during lunch just to watch other people –he would have to introduce this guy to Shinguji one day. They would probably get along.

“Didn’t you say no one could find him?” Saihara asked, Ouma nodded. “How _exactly_ do you miss this man in a crowd? He’s wearing a _full suit_ at school. His hair is _the_ _same height as him,_ and he’s like _5’9.”_

“Well, it was _Nagito-chan_ who said he couldn’t find him, so it’s not my fault,” Ouma shrugged, then grabbed Saihara’s wrist and pulled him to walk with him towards Kamukura.

Kamukura didn’t bat an eye at them once they reached him.

“Oi, Kamukura Izuru-chan!” Ouma said, waving his hand frenectically to try and get Kamukura’s attention, but the long-haired man didn’t even look down at them. “What are you doing up there? Nagito-chan is looking for you!” Silence. “... Izuru-chan?”

Kamukura hummed, but still didn’t look at them. At least he acknowledged their presence.

“Helloooo? Izuru-chaaaan?”

“Kamukura-san?”

“I heard you,” Kamukura replied with a sigh. “No need to make a fuss.”

“Your boyfriend is looking for you,” Ouma told him again, resting a hand on his hips. “What are you doing up there?”

For a moment, Kamukura fell silent. And then, just when Saihara was about to give up and pull Ouma away, he finally replied: “Concealing myself.”

Saihara blinked, confused for a moment. He almost scoffed –for someone so talented in a shit ton of things, Kamukura sure didn’t know how to hide. Saihara saw him from inside the school building, and his vision was shitty as fuck even with his glasses.

“You’re _hiding?”_ Ouma was the one who asked, sounding as confused as Saihara. “From what? From who?” He waited for a moment after asking the questions, and when he realized that Kamukura wasn’t gonna answer, he shrugged. “Well, whatever. I’m gonna tell Nagito-chan that you’re-”

_“Do not.”_

Ouma gasped. _“What?”_

“Do not… Tell Nagito.”

“You’re avoiding your _boyfriend?!_ Why?”

“It’s… Not like that,” Kamukura sighed again. “Enoshima and Shirogane from your class want to… _Stylish_ my hair. Nagito wants to see it. Do not tell him where I am.”

Both Ouma and Saihara fell silent for a moment before Ouma started giggling. Saihara had to hold up a snort.

“Ohh, I see, I see,” Ouma said, still giggling. “I won’t tell him, then. I’ll also leave you alone so we won’t draw attention, but oh! Let me give you an advice,” he then placed his index finger in front of his mouth in his usual I’m-Either-Telling-You-A-Secret-Or-Fucking-Around-With-You way, smirking. “If you want to hide and not be found, tie your hair up. It’s a big red flag.”

Kamukura stared at him for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Very well. Enjoy your meal, Ouma-kun.”

“We will, we will,” Ouma said, waving his hand lazily. “Now come, Saihara-chan. Let’s eat together.”

Saihara barely had time to nod before he was pulled away from Kamukura. It was only then that he noticed that he and Ouma were still holding hands, ever since they were inside the building, and probably the entire school saw them. He tried not to blush when he came to this conclusion.

“Um, where are we going, Ouma-kun? The dining hall is that way,” Saihara said when he noticed the way Ouma was pulling him, towards the gym instead of the dining hall.

It took Saihara only one look at Ouma’s shit-eating grin for him to know. He didn’t even have to answer.

“Why, we’re gonna tell Nagito-chan where his boyfriend is, of course.”

Saihara couldn’t do anything but sigh in defeat and let Ouma pull him among the school halls.  
  


**-x-  
  
**

After Ouma found Komaeda (and consequently Hinata, too), told him where Kamukura was and watched him sprint out of the gym with a maniac laugh, they were left alone. Once they were alone, Ouma turned to him.

“So, Saihara-chan,” he said, twirling a strand of his hair between his fingers. “Where are you gonna go now?”

Saihara looked from his face to the clock on the wall over the gym’s doors, checking the time. “There’s still plenty of time left. I think I’ll go back to my usual lunch spot? The others are probably still there. Why?”

“Ah, with Amami-chan and the others?” Ouma asked, Saihara nodded. “Ah, okay then. As my squad is not here today, I think I’ll just stay here by myself, staring blankly at the walls, contemplating life-”

“You can have lunch with me,” Saihara quickly said, because he’s a goddamn idiot and his big mouth worked faster than his sense. He could use some company, even if just for today –he was starting to get annoyed of third-wheeling for _both_ his friends’ couples. “I-I mean, with me and the others. They won’t mind.”

“Oh?” Ouma’s face lit up in excitement, like this wasn’t the exact outcome he was expecting. “Well, then why didn’t you say so earlier? Let’s go annoy the shit out of Harukawa-chan and Momota-chan!”

Saihara sighed, but allowed Ouma to join their hands and pull him out of the gym. 

As expected, the others were still at their usual lunch spot, sitting by that large tree with the nice shadow. Both Harukawa and Momota had their backs at them when they arrived and Akamatsu was busy talking to Harukawa, so Amami was the first one to notice them approaching.

He opened a big smile once they were close enough to their group, waving lazily. “Yo, Saihara-kun, Ouma-kun. Where were you at?”

With the mention of Ouma’s name along with Saihara’s, Harukawa snapped her head around to look at them, immediately glaring daggers at the short Supreme Leader. Ouma giggled at her, blowing her a kiss before throwing his arms behind his head and sitting by the tree next to Saihara.

“What are _you_ doing here?” She asked, gripping her chopsticks firmly as she stared deadly at Ouma –if she put any more force in her hands, she would break the chopsticks, and they were made of _plastic._

Ouma didn’t answer, just pointed with his chin towards somewhere behind her and Momota with his trademark shit-eating grin. Saihara didn’t have to look at where he was pointing to know what he was showing them; Komaeda and Hinata talking to Kamukura by the tree with Enoshima and Shirogane by their side, trying to convince him to get down.

Saihara sighed, removing the lid of his orange juice. “It’s just for today.”

Harukawa seemed unsure for a moment, still glaring daggers at Ouma, until she finally started to relax as Momota started gently caressing her arm.

“Well, if it’s just for today, then I don’t mind!” Momota said with one of his wide, heart-warming smiles, although Saihara could tell it was sort of forced –Momota was his best friend, after all. Although Momota was slightly better than Harukawa at masking it, Saihara knew that he also wasn’t that fond of Ouma. “So, Shuichi, where were you? Harumaki and I were just-”

Ouma scoffed. “Yes, _Shumai,_ where were you?”

Saihara immediately choked on his juice with the sudden nickname, coughing a couple of times to recover his breath, already feeling his face heating up. Momota leaned forward to pat his back gently.

“U-um, Ouma-kun asked me to help him look for his missing friend, so I was helping him. As his friends are busy and he’s alone, I gave him an honorary squad member ticket. S-sorry,” he said, looking down at his juice for his hair to fall over his face and luckily cover his blushing face. Harukawa humphed and Momota hummed an agreement, Akamatsu and Amami smiled.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the others finishing their lunches and Saihara and Ouma starting theirs. They ate in silence and then, after they were also done, Saihara picked his uncle’s files to take a look at them as the others talked to each other silently enough to allow him to concentrate. He quickly ran his eyes through the information about the case, something about a triple murder with signs of torture and cruelty, before sighing under his breath. This would probably be a tricky case.

He read through the files about three times before his head started bumping and the back of his ears started aching. He sighed again, putting the files down and removing his glasses in order to massage the bridge of his nose. Damn it, now was _not_ the time to have a headache.

“You okay, Shumai?” 

Saihara looked up towards Ouma, still without putting his glasses back on, staring at his blurred face. Ouma was finishing his grape soda, silently looking at Saihara with what he figured would be ‘concern’, but he couldn’t quite tell without his glasses –what was a shame, because he couldn’t see Ouma’s freckles like this.

(Also, there was the nickname again. Was Ouma making fun of Momota’s “Harumaki”? But Momota and Harukawa were _dating,_ they were allowed to have cute nicknames for each other.)

“Yeah,” Saihara replied, massaging the bridge of his nose again before massaging the back of his ears, where his glasses’ earpiece rested. “Just a bit tired, that’s all.”

Ouma hummed. “Your nose is red,” he said, pointing at the bridge of Saihara’s nose. He unconsciously moved to massage it again.

“Ah, it’s because of my glasses,” Saihara informed him. “Sometimes they hur-” Realizing what he was about to say, he tried to cut himself up, but it was already too late.

Ouma heard him.

“Oh?” Ouma hummed again, smirking already forming on his lips. “So you’re hurt, hm? I should kiss it better, then~~”

Saihara didn’t even had time to deny the offer or even remind Ouma that _Harukawa_ was there with them before the Supreme Leader moved a little closer and leaned over, cupping Saihara’s face with one hand and resting the other on the detective’s chest, and placed a soft kiss over the red spot caused by Saihara’s glasses.

Saihara closed his eyes tightly shut and clenched his jaw, trying not to think about how dangerously close to his mouth Ouma was, and if the boy decided to slide down just a little bit they would kiss. After a second or two of kissing the right side of his nose, Ouma moved to kiss the left side, also for a second or two. When he backed away, Saihara let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Then, because both God and Ouma decided Saihara still hadn't suffered enough, Ouma moved to kiss the spot _behind_ Saihara’s ear that was also reddish and quite sore because of the glasses’ earpieces.

Not only that, but Ouma also decided he needed to throw a leg over Saihara’s thigh to do so, trapping Saihara in place with nowhere to run, practically sitting on his thigh. Then, he used the hand that was cupping his face to turn his face slightly to the side, giving him a better view of the back of his ear where he needed to kiss better and consequently Saihara’s neck, also known as his fucking _weak spot._

_Fuck._

A wolf in sheep’s clothing, that’s what Ouma was. He was doing this on _purpose,_ the little shit.

But Saihara was nothing if strong. He could handle this. Just a tiny, innocent kiss to the back of his ear, no big deal, nothing much. He could definitely handle this.

It wasn’t until Ouma slowly moved his face closer to his, lingering over his ear and snorting against it on purpose that Saihara realized.

He could _not_ handle this.

Saihara closed his eyes tightly again and gulped, pressing his lips on a thin line to hold back a sigh when Ouma’s soda-cold breath hit his ear. Please don’t moan, please don’t moan, please don’t moan, please don’t-

_“Ah.”_

_Shit._

Ouma snorted again, finally kissing that tiny spot behind Saihara’s ear for what seemed to be an eternity, thumb gently caressing Saihara’s face, and Saihara couldn’t do anything but just sit there frozen in place, eyes tightly squeezed shut, lips pressed in a thin line and hands opening and closing in fists, waiting for this forsaken torture session to end.

But then Ouma moved to kiss his _other_ ear, and Saihara almost whimpered like a stray dog who was just kicked in the guts.

Once again, Ouma’s lips lingered on the reddish skin behind his ear on purpose, breathing against Saihara’s ear in a way that sent a shiver down his spine, and Saihara had to bit up another moan, because he knew that this time he wouldn’t be able to keep it low and _his fucking friends were watching them_ , for fuck’s sake. With luck they didn’t hear him at the first time, but Saihara honestly doubted that God would be so merciful if it happened again.

“There,” Ouma whispered against his ear once he kissed the reddish spot behind both ears, still without backing up, and Saihara could almost hear the shit-eating, smug grin. “It should be better now~”

“While I do think you’re cute and all that, you two do realize that we’re still here, right?”

Ouma giggled again, finally taking mercy on Saihara and stepping back, sitting back on his previous spot next to the detective. “Why, Amami-chan, are you jealous?”

Momota grumbled. “While I _don’t_ think you’re cute, you do realize that we’re in fucking _public,_ yeah? Not only in public, but at the _school?”_

“Yeah? So what?” Ouma said, probably shrugging, but Saihara couldn’t tell. He still had his eyes closed, trying to calm down his racing heartbeat.

“Shuichi?” Akamatsu called him, sounding worried. Saihara didn’t open his eyes, but hummed to let her know he was listening. “Are you okay? I’ve never seen you so red before.”

“Woah, Shumai, you sure are red,” Ouma stated, sounding actually amazed. Saihara heard someone gasping, then felt someone poking his ribs. Judging by the position of the person, it was Ouma. “Could you be flustered because… You’re… In love with me?!”

“I-I’m not!” Saihara replied, finally opening his eyes to look at Ouma. Luckily, his breath had returned to normal. His face, on the other hand, was still burning hot. “D-don’t go kissing my injuries like that in public! It’s not even an injury!”

“It’s not?!” Ouma said innocently, mouth falling open in surprise. He then shrugged, sipping from his grape soda. “Well, it looked painful for me. Oops, my bad~”

Saihara whined and opened his mouth to reply, but the ringtone indicating the end of lunchtime rang before he could. Sighing, he shook his head and picked up his stuff, tapping the dirt away from his pants before throwing his trash in a nearby trash can. Then, he and his friends returned to the classroom for the afternoon classes.

He tried to ignore Akamatsu and Amami’s dirty smirks, Harukawa’s deadly glares and Momota’s disappointed looks for the rest of the day. Then, on the top of that, he tried to ignore the way he could feel Ouma’s eyes digging holes in the back of his head during their classes.

* * *

It’s raining when Saihara wakes up in the morning that changes everything.

Although it was raining, it wasn’t too cold outside, which made the climate perfect for him. Saihara loved rainy and cloudy days. They were perfect to sit by his window and read a good novel while drinking a burning-hot coffee with way too much sugar to be considered healthy. Rainy days usually meant the weather wouldn’t get too hot, which consequently meant his shirt wouldn’t be soaked with sweat by the time he arrived at school, and he wouldn’t have to watch his classes with his shirt disgustingly glued to his body.

The worst part of rainy days, however, was that because it wasn’t sunny, he didn’t have excuses to wear his hat, and his hair tended to get a little, uh… _Fluffy,_ with humidity.

He had now _two_ wild strands of hair at the top of his head that wouldn’t come down no matter how hard he tried.

Sighing, he put Shirogane’s borrowed mirror down and decided to give up. He would have to accept his two antennas.

“I think it’s kind of cute,” Shirogane told him as he returned the pocket mirror to her.

“I look like an ant,” Saihara grumbled, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“You sort of do,” Akamatsu nodded, sitting over Shirogane’s desk and trying to put down her own wild strand of hair. At least she only had one. “But it’s still kind of cute.”

“I think you look like Gonta. Or a mix between Gonta and Miu,” Ouma joined the conversation, lying over his desk and looking at Saihara upside down. Apparently, the humidity made everyone’s hair a little wilder –even upside down and with his hair falling down, Saihara could tell that Ouma’s hair was a little fluffier than usual. “Only cuter, of course. Because Miu is one ugly whore.”

“Yeah fuck you too, Cockichi!” Iruma said from the other side of the class, talking to someone by the door; probably Souda or Fujisaki. Saihara didn’t know how she was able to hear what Ouma’s said. “Get off my dick! Or at least retouch your hair before talkin’ shit about me!”

“You wish! You wish you were me!”

“Like hell I would wish to be you! Fuckin’ gremlin! You’re not even tall enough to ride the fuckin’ rollercoaster in the amusement park!”

“Guys, _please._ It’s barely nine in the morning,” K1-B0 sighed, massaging his temples. Iruma and Ouma showed each other their middle fingers, but actually stopped bickering

“Gonta thinks Saihara-kun looks good!” Gonta said from his assigned seat next to Shirogane’s, resuming the discussion about Saihara’s double antenna.

“Thanks, Gonta,” Saihara muttered. “Now we’re _both_ ants.”

“Good thing ants are nice then!”

Saihara grumbled before sighing, running his fingers through his hair, and standing up to return to his own assigned seat. Ouma giggled and moved over his desk to remove his legs from Saihara’s seat, rolled on his stomach and then finally left the desk with a small jump before sitting correctly. Then, he touched the tip of Saihara’s hair when the detective sat back on his usual seat, moving his legs childishly beneath his chair.

“Don’t worry, _Shumai,”_ he said, twirling a strand of the detective’s hair on his fingers. Saihara looked at him from over his shoulder, glasses sliding to the tip of his nose –he didn’t comment on the nickname, since it apparently became an actual thing. “I really do think your hair looks cute. Actually, I think you’re the cutest person in this school. You could come to school cosplaying as Miu one day and I’d still think you’re the cutest person here, although I _would_ question your taste for clothes.”

Saihara pushed his glasses back, trying to ignore the blush tainting his cheeks. He hummed, opting for ignoring the last part and focusing only on the first part. “I think, uh- I think you’re cute too, Ouma-kun.”

Ouma blinked, probably not expecting to be complimented back, before giggling nervously. Saihara could see a tiny hint of a blush on his pale cheeks. _“E-eh?_ A-ah, um, t-thanks.”

“You guys are so fuckin’ _disgusting.”_

“Get off _my_ dick!” Ouma shouted at Iruma, sounding and looking actually angry, although Saihara could still see the blush on his cheeks. Iruma squeaked. “How did you even hear that?! Stop listening to our conversations! Go suck your robot boyfriend’s metal dick if he has one!”

It was K1-B0’s turn to squeak. “H-hey! T-that’s robophobic!”

“Stop shouting, both of you. Iruma-san, please sit down. Class is about to start,” Tojo firmly said with her Mom voice, making Saihara sigh in relief when both Iruma and Ouma immediately fell quiet –although not before showing their middle fingers to each other again.

Ouma humphed behind Saihara, mumbling something under his breath, but before he could turn around to check on the boy their teacher finally arrived, apologizing for being quite late. As he opened his notebook to start writing today’s stuff, he felt Ouma playing with that one strand of hair behind his head again, probably feeling the way he wanted to talk to him, as if to tell him he was fine. Saihara sighed in relief again, smiling quietly.

The class managed to stay silent for about thirty minutes before Iruma and Ouma started bickering again.

**  
-x-  
  
**

It’s _still_ raining by the time classes end.

Saihara wasn’t surprised at this, not at all –he had checked the news before leaving his house, and it said it was gonna rain for the rest of the day, so he was at least prepared. So, checking if his umbrella was still inside his bag, he stepped out of the classroom with a sigh, being immediately followed by Ouma, Momota and Harukawa. The others were walking ahead of them.

“I’m just saying,” Ouma shrugged with a smug smirk, a lollipop in his mouth, arms thrown behind his head. Saihara felt himself getting physically older again. “It’s actually possible and very likely that the moon is not actually real.”

Momota whimpered, seeming to be on the verge of a very serious breakdown. “How is the moon not real? It’s literally right there!”

“Or is it?” Ouma raised an eyebrow, removing the lollipop from his mouth with a loud ‘pop’ and pointing it at Momota. “Have you been there?”

“Have _you_ been there to prove it’s not real?”

“Me not having been there is _literally proof_ of it not being real.”

“Please stop, I’m gonna have a seizure,” Harukawa grunted, massaging her temples. Saihara rubbed his eyes from under his glasses. “I can’t believe you’re actually having this conversation.”

“He started it!” Momota said, pointing angrily at Ouma, but Ouma just let out his trademark giggle.

Harukawa sighed, enlacing her fingers with Momota’s to keep him by her side. _“Yes,_ and you’re falling for his bullshit. It’s exactly what he wanted. Saihara, please contain your… _Boyfriend,_ or whatever he is to you.”

“H-he’s not my boyfriend!” Saihara stuttered, widening his eyes and raising his hands.

“It’s not like it matters anyway, yeah?” Ouma said. Saihara turned to look at him. When he did so, Ouma gasped and widened his eyes, covering his mouth with one hand like he just saw something he shouldn’t have. “Is it because Saihara-chan is … In love with me!?”

“I’m… _Not.”_

Harukawa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

“But! Shumai’s right, y’know. I’m not his boyfriend,” Ouma nodded, what made Saihara sigh in relief. But then Ouma laced his arm with his and smiled one of his shit-eating grins, and Saihara knew that he had relaxed too soon. “I’m actually his fiancé. We’ve been dating for three years and now we’re gonna get married. By the way, you’re not invited to the wedding. Bye bye~”

Saihara sighed again, but allowed Ouma to pull him to walk away from Momota and Harukawa. Giving his best friends an apologetic smile and mumbling ‘I’m sorry’ under his breath, Saihara let Ouma guide them among the long halls of Hope’s Peak Academy, sneaking between the students filling the hallways, towards the school’s entrance.

They stopped by the front door, under a covered area, watching some students running into the rain in order to finally go home and others opting for waiting for the rain to narrow down just a little before they decided to adventure themselves into it. Saihara saw some familiar faces here and there –Oowada and Ishimaru from class 3-B running in the rain, with Oowada’s coat thrown over Ishimaru’s head like a raincoat. Chabashira, Yumeno and Yonaga all sharing an umbrella. Amami and Akamatsu also sharing an umbrella _and_ earbuds. Hinata, Nanami, Komaeda and Kamukura all sitting together under the covered area Saihara and Ouma were also in, but a little farther away, with Nanami apparently asleep on Hinata’s shoulder and Komaeda laughing at something with Hinata while leaning on Kamukura, who _did not_ seem happy, with his hair tied up in twintails.

“Say, Shumai, do you mind getting wet?”

Saihara blinked away from the people around them to look back at Ouma, who was standing in front of him with a childish smile on his lips.

“Uh,” Saihara said, “I don’t think so? But if you didn’t bring an umbrella we can share mi-”

“Boring!”

Saihara barely had time to open his mouth to ask what Ouma was scheming before slender fingers wrapped around his wrist and he was suddenly pulled away from the covered area they were standing, into the rain.

Although it _was_ hot today, he still screeched when the cold water touched his skin and immediately started soaking his white shirt, instantly starting to shiver. Ouma, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of his life, laughing loudly as he ran into the rain and dragged Saihara with him, jumping into puddles of water and gaining dirty glares from the students around them as he kicked the water towards them on purpose.

“O-Ouma-kun!” Saihara screeched again, trying to pull his wrist away from Ouma’s grip, but Ouma was holding him quite firmly. “P-please stop! You’re gonna get in trouble!”

“C’mon!” Ouma replied with a big smile and a loud shout, over the sound of the rain, jumping on another puddle and turning to watch Saihara, encouraging him. Saihara stopped and stared at Ouma for a second, wrist still firmly in Ouma’s grip, before looking down at the pool of water and then at Ouma again, wondering.

Fuck, why not? He was already entirely wet and with the pants’ bar already dirty. Besides, it was harmless and Ouma seemed to be having a lot of fun, so Saihara figured he could try it as well.

So, taking a small momentum with his legs, Saihara jumped on the large pool of water Ouma was still standing on, splashing dirty water everywhere. He immediately started giggling. Ouma instantly started giggling as well.

Ouma ran to jump into another puddle, draggin Saihara with him. This time, Saihara easily followed him. Both of their laughs echoed loudly over the thick rain.

Saihara lost track of time, but he figured they should be doing this for at least twenty to thirty minutes, running aimlessly around the neighborhood and stepping into every pool of water they saw until they reached a park nearest their school. Each time, their giggles became louder and louder, until they both were laughing so hard that they were breathless. Sometime around ten or so minutes ago, Ouma let go of Saihara’s wrist and took his hand instead, intertwining their fingers together. They were both having the time of their lives.

Until Ouma accidentally sprained his ankle while jumping on one particular deep pool of water, sliding on the wet grass, and sent them both straight to it. They fell on the puddle in a messy tangle of limbs, with Saihara over Ouma, soaking their clothes even more than they were already soaked.

They went silent for about two seconds before bursting out in hysterical laughter.

Saihara moved away from Ouma in order to sit down by his side, right there in the grass, not even bothering if he was sitting on a puddle, holding his stomach because he was laughing too hard. 

“Oh my- oh my God, that was-”

Saihara’s laughter instantly died in his throat once he looked at Ouma. In the fall, Ouma must've fell on his face.

There was a small slit on his bottom lip, bleeding.

Ouma must’ve been too immersed in adrenaline and joy to notice it, for he was still laughing deeply, eyes still closed and holding his stomach like Saihara was doing before, probably not even feeling the pain yet. However, as his laughter was gradually dying and his breathing returning to normal, he opened his eyes in a half-lid to stare at Saihara.

He frowned at the detective when he opened his eyes after a long session of joyful laughter and saw Saihara with a pale face, eyes widened as if he'd seen a ghost.

“Shumai?”

Saihara didn’t reply, just tapped his own bottom lip where Ouma’s been slit and watched. Slowly, Saihara saw Ouma’s own face paling as he brought his hand up to touch his own bottom lip, hissing when his fingertips touched the new open wound. His lavender eyes widened as he saw his fingers returning bloody.

“O-oh,” he murmured. “I didn’t even feel it.”

Saihara bit his lower lip, wondering. Would… Would Ouma…? Should he… ?

“S-Shumai. _Saihara-chan,”_ Ouma said. “I know what you’re thinking. Y-you don’t need to if you don’t-”

But Saihara wasn’t gonna back down now.

So, gathering a courage he didn’t even know he had, Saihara leaned forward, cupped Ouma’s left cheek with his hand and gently pressed their lips together.

It was short and soft, barely enough for Saihara to actually realize that he was _kissing Ouma Kokichi,_ but he could still taste the artificial strawberry flavor of the lollipop he was licking earlier. Ouma’s lips tasted like blood, rain and strawberry lollipop.

Saihara didn’t know such an odd combination of things could taste so _good._ It felt _unfair._

After the short kiss was over and he leaned back, Saihara just stayed there, with his eyes still closed, lips pressed on a thin line, still drunk in the ghost feeling of Ouma’s soft lips pressing against his chapped ones, sitting on a puddle on the grass of an empty park near their school, with the rain still enveloping them.

When he finally opened his eyes, he saw Ouma also with his eyes closed and lips pressed on a thin line, soaked fringe covering half of his face, brows slightly furrowed.

Saihara opened his mouth to apologize, to say something, anything at all, but nothing came out.

So he just grabbed his bag, stood and ran away from the park, leaving Ouma and his own heart behind.  
  


* * *

  
The next day, at school, Saihara couldn’t look Ouma in the eye.  
  


* * *

  
The following day, neither.  
  


* * *

**  
Tokyo, October 5, 2019. Saturday.**

_can i have uhhhhhh ouma-kun *crying emoji x3* [11:23am]: ooooi saihara-channnnn!!!! shumaiiii!!!! my beloveddddd!!!! wanna go to that ice cream store next to school?!!!??!_

_can i have uhhhhhh ouma-kun *crying emoji x3* [11:29am]: shinguji-chan is coming too!!!_

* * *

  
Coward.

That’s what Saihara was. A _coward._ Coward, for running away from Ouma that day. Coward, for barely being able to look at Ouma’s face at school the other day. Coward, for starting to avoid him in the following days.

Coward, for running away from his own feelings.

Saihara didn’t remember falling for Ouma, it just sort of happened. Gradually, subtly, naturally. 

_Hard._

Saihara wished he could tell where things started to change between them; was it when he slipped and kissed Ouma’s finger better that day at school after the Knife Game, a month ago? Was it the fact Ouma looked so flustered after that, being reduced to a blushy and stuttering mess? Was it the fact that Ouma turned Saihara’s slip into a _competition,_ deciding that he wasn’t gonna lose to him? Or the fact that he used every excuse he had to kiss Saihara’s injuries, even though they weren’t actual injuries?

When did it become so difficult for Saihara to deny it when Ouma teased him asking if he was in love?

Just exactly _when_ did he fall in love?

 _Fuck._ Why did everything have to be so fucking _difficult and confusing?!_

Saihara stared blankly at the cracked screen of his phone, Ouma’s messages ghostly staring back at him, waiting for an answer. It was easy to just ignore them, pretend he didn’t see them, run away from his feelings again, but Ouma didn’t deserve this –it was Saihara who messed up in the first place, not Ouma. Ouma didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, Ouma was the victim.

Ouma deserved an explanation. He deserved to know why Saihara was doing this.

He deserved to know how Saihara fucked up their harmless and silly competition by falling in love with him.

_Saihara Shuichi [11:47am]: Sure_

_can i have uhhhhhh ouma-kun *crying emoji x3* [11:48am]: YEESSSS!!!!_

_can i have uhhhhhh ouma-kun *crying emoji x3* [11:48am]: is 3pm ok for u?/!!//???!!_

_Saihara Shuichi [11:52am]: Yeah_

_can i have uhhhhhh ouma-kun *crying emoji x3* [11:52am]: NICE!!!! imma tell shinguji-chan!!!_

_can i have uhhhhhh ouma-kun *crying emoji x3* [11:52am]: see ya there!!! *blowing a kiss emoji x7* *purple heart emoji x12*_

_Saihara Shuichi [11:58am]: See ya_

Locking his phone and throwing it aside, Saihara sighed deeply, throwing an arm over his forehead and staring at the fluorescent stars and planets glued to the white ceiling above him. The stars and planets stared back at him, judgmentally.

What was he supposed to do?  
  


* * *

  
The ice cream store was relatively empty when the three of them stepped into it, going straight to the counter, Ouma running in front of Saihara with small jumps and a big smile on his lips as he talked with Shinguji about milkshake flavors –Saihara had to prevent himself from holding Ouma’s arm and warn him to stop, but Shinguji didn’t seem to be annoyed at Ouma, so he ended up leaving it. In fact, if anything, Shinguji seemed to be quite interested in what Ouma had to say.

Once they reached the counter, Ouma opened an even bigger smile, leaning over the counter.

“Good afternoon, may I take your order?”

“Yes!” Ouma nodded, looking at the huge board filled with milkshake flavors over the counter. “I’ll have a large strawberry, passion fruit and grape flavored milkshake with mint!”

 _“Please,”_ Shinguji added for him.

Ouma nodded again. _“Please.”_

Saihara twisted his nose, looking away from the popsicle freezers towards Ouma. “This combo sounds _disgusting,_ Ouma-kun.”

“Oh, I know. It probably is, but I like trying new things,” Ouma shrugged indifferently. The woman behind the counter scoffed under her breath. “What about you, Shinguji-chan? Shumai?”

“Good afternoon. I’ll have a large chocolate flavored milkshake with chocolate sprinkles, if I may,” Shinguji politely told the clerk with his deep voice, still looking at the board over the counter. Saihara swore he saw his yellow eyes shining. “What about you, Saihara-kun?”

“Um,” Saihara hummed, still looking at the popsicle freezers. Then, he looked at the board over the counter with the milkshake flavors. “What do you- um, what do you suggest, Shinguji-kun?”

“I’m quite fond of chocolate, but if you wish to try something different, the caramel one is also a good choice.”

Saihara nodded. “I’ll have a medium caramel then, please.”

“Very well. May I have your names, please?” The clerk said. After Shinguji gave her his name, she wrote it down along with their orders and smiled. “It’ll be done in a second.”

“Thank you,” Shinguji and Saihara said at the same time. When Ouma didn’t say it, Shinguji poked him softly in the ribs.

“Yes, _thank you,”_ Ouma said, rolling his eyes at Shinguji. The latter hummed in contentment. “Shinguji-chan, are you my mom?”

“If I were, you would _not_ have this mannerism,” Shinguji said, eyes closed. Saihara couldn’t see it because of his mask, but he knew that he also had a grin in his lips. “I shall request Tojo-san to give you some etiquette lessons.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ouma rolled his eyes again, scoffing before smiling. Saihara couldn’t help but smile softly at the interaction, looking away from Ouma and Shinguji towards the closest ice cream freezer to hide the fond look he was probably making –it was good to see Ouma interacting with people from their class other than Iruma and K1-B0 in such a light-hearted way; it meant he was making real friends.

However, seeing Ouma smiling also made Saihara’s heart ache painfully in his chest, because it awfully reminded him of how much he fucked up their friendship.

Just _what was he thinking_ when he kissed Ouma?

The competition was supposed to be friendly and harmless; Ouma _himself_ told Saihara that he didn’t need to do it, so why did Saihara kiss him anyway? Because he was curious? Because he wanted to know what Ouma’s lips tasted like? Because he was _selfish?_

He must've dozed off, because he was taken away from his daydreaming by Shinguji clearing his throat softly somewhere on his left.

“I will take a look at the popsicles. I’ll be right back,” the anthropologist said, pointing towards the popsicle isle with his finger while alternating his look between Saihara and Ouma. Saihara pretended he didn’t notice Shinguji’s eyes lingering a little longer on Ouma in the last look he gave him before going to the popsicle isle.

And so, Saihara and Ouma were left alone.

_Shit._

“Sooo, Shumai,” Ouma said once Shinguji was gone, approaching Saihara slightly with his arms thrown behind his head and a warm smile on his lips. He stopped by Saihara’s side, looking vaguely at the soda cans at the vending machine. “I’m glad you could come with us today.”

_I didn’t want to, but I ended up accepting the offer because you said Shinguji-kun would come too. I didn’t know he would leave us alone like this. That traitor._

“Y-yeah.”

“You just seem so distant lately. I almost started thinking you were avoiding me.”

_That’s because I was, because I’m a nasty coward._

“A-ah- ahaha. Not at all.”

“Did something happen?”

_Yes, I fucked up our competition and probably our entire friendship as well by accidentally falling in love with you like a goddamn idiot. Sorry for that._

“Not really,” Saihara answered, crossing his arms over his chest and scratching his elbow, shrinking into a self-hug and hoping his long black cardigan would cover his entire body and hide him from the other people. He prayed for all the gods he knew for his voice to sound convincing, or at least for Ouma to believe in such an obvious lie, or for him just to ignore it.

“Shinguji Korekiyo-san?”

Both Ouma and Saihara turned their heads towards the voice, to the woman behind the counter holding three distinct milkshakes, and Saihara innerly sighed in relief. Shinguji went to the counter in a second after hearing his name, holding a credit card. After he paid for his order and Saihara and Ouma paid for theirs, they left the ice cream store side by side with their shakes in hand.

“Ah, this is wonderful. It’s been a while since I last had a milkshake,” Shinguji said once they were outside the store, sipping from his milkshake without taking his mask off. Once he noticed it, Saihara had to blink a couple of times and stop for a moment to assimilate the information –what the hell?! How the hell was he doing that?! “To the park?”

“To the park!” Ouma happily nodded, sipping from his own milkshake. It had an weird moss-brown color and didn’t seem pleasant in the _slightest,_ but if it actually wasn’t pleasant, Ouma didn’t show it in his face –Ouma was an extremely good actor, after all.

“Lead the way,” Saihara said with a nod, closing his eyes and sipping from his shake. Shoving his previous thoughts about Ouma’s milkshake aside, he followed Ouma and Shinguji towards the park.

It wasn’t until they reached the entrance of the park that Saihara realized it was the same one where he kissed Ouma and fucked up their relationship a couple days ago.

He immediately cringed and whimpered under his breath, looking sideways at Ouma to see how the boy would react, but Ouma still had his joyful expression in his face, smiling happily as he trotted and drank his disgustingly-looking milkshake, apparently unaffected by the view of the park.

But again, Ouma was a really good actor.

They wandered aimlessly around the park for a while, with mostly Ouma talking cheerfully with Shinguji and Saihara just silently following them, enjoying their milkshakes and the _finally_ cool wind of an autumn afternoon –Saihara in his long black cardigan and dark grey sweater, Ouma in his pastel purple and white oversized hoodie and Shinguji in his dark-green turtleneck and sand-colored trench coat. 

After a couple of minutes of aimless wandering, they found a good spot to sit down and finish their drinks in peace, by the shadow of a large tree next to the park’s lake. Sitting down in the still sun-warm grass, Ouma quickly took Saihara’s immediately left a little too close for it to be considered “casual”, basically snuggling against his arm. Shinguji took Ouma’s free side, but sat down a little farther than Saihara, _actually_ casually.

“Shumaiii,” Ouma said, holding Saihara’s arm and snuggling against his shoulder. He sighed happily, smiling on the straw of his milkshake. “You’re so _warm._ I missed spending time with you~~”

Saihara felt his heart skip a beat.

Why?

Why was Ouma doing this? Why was Ouma talking to him so casually? Why was he being so nice? _Why?_ Was it _pity?_ Sympathy? Did Ouma pity him? Or was he making fun of him, trying to humiliate him? Because _Ouma_ should be the one avoiding him, trying to refrain from talking with him, not the other way around –it was _Saihara_ who was a selfish jackass and kissed him without his permission, not the other way around.

Not only that, but it was Saihara who kissed him without his permission and _ran away_ after that. It was _also_ Saihara who started avoiding Ouma while at school, like he wasn’t the one who fucked everything up in the first place. Like he wasn’t the one who fell for silly kisses like a needy idiot who never experienced affection before.

God, he was so _pathetic._

He didn’t even realize he started crying until the first hiccup left his mouth. After that, it was a waterfall of tears.

_“S-Shumai?!”_

“I am _so sorry,_ Ouma-kun,” Saihara sobbed, squeezing his eyes with the palms of his hands from under his glasses. “I am so sorry, I fucked everything. I’m so sorry, _please_ forgive me. Please, _please-”_

“Shumai, w-what did you do? What happened?”

“Our competition,” Saihara explained, and it seemed to make his pain even worse. He sobbed again, then sniffed, then sobbed again. There was a movement on his left side, where Ouma was sitting. “I’m sorry, I ruined our competition. I’m such an idiot, I ruined _everything._ I fucked _everything. God,_ I’m so _pathetic._ I’m _so sorry_ for avoiding you these last few days, because _I was_ avoiding you, but I was just _so scared_ of facing you and that you would tell me you didn’t want to be friends anymore. I was such a coward. I am so-”

“Shumai, Saihara-chan,” Ouma said, gently touching Saihara’s arm. Saihara didn’t remove his palms from his eyes. “What are you talking about? How exactly did you ruin our competition?”

“I _ruined_ it,” Saihara hiccupped. “With the last kiss. By _falling.”_

“Falling...?”

“Falling,” Saihara repeated, making an ugly grimace. He cried harder. “For _you.”_

Saihara felt the exact moment Ouma went rigid. The exact moment he froze, the hand in his arm started trembling and his fingers closed slightly around his muscles.

The exact moment Saihara Shuichi threw his heart out and then signed the end of his friendship with Ouma Kokichi.

He waited for the outburst. He waited for the moment Ouma would start laughing hysterically and mocking him, calling him words, telling him he’s an idiot for falling for him. He waited for the moment Ouma would tell him that this was his plan all along, to make him high with love just so he could watch the fall, just so the fall would be more painful, because this is just how his twisted personality is. Because this is what a Supreme Leader of Evil does. 

But none of this ever happened.

Instead, Saihara heard a very soft snort in front of him, barely audible but still there. Then, he felt two milkshake-cold hands touching his wrists still covering his eyes, and a very soft voice whispering in front of him.

“Shumai,” said the voice. “Look at me.”

Saihara shook his head negatively, biting up another hiccup, trying to decrease his pathetic cry. He allowed Ouma to remove his hands from his eyes, but didn’t open them to face the boy –he knew that, if he did, he would cry even harder. The shame for being so pathetic would come at him in huge, unstoppable waves.

“Shumai, Saihara-chan,” Ouma tried again, voice just as soft as before, this time cupping Saihara’s face with both hands and trying to lift his head up and catch his eyes, but Saihara still had his eyes closed. _“Shuichi,”_ he tried once more, and this time it worked. Saihara snapped his eyes open, but didn’t look at Ouma; he looked down at his lap, seeing Ouma sitting in front of him through his peripheral vision. “Look at me. _Please.”_

Slowly, uncertainly, Saihara looked up and caught Ouma’s eyes on his, afraid of what he was going to see –mockery, disgust, rejection. 

Instead, he was greeted with the view of Ouma smiling, back against the begging of a sunset, eyes watery. The orange-pink rays of sun hit his back perfectly, enveloping his tiny silhouette in a pale aura that made him look like he glowed. He was so beautiful, Ouma was just so fucking _beautiful,_ it was _unfair_. Like a masterpiece, he wanted to stare at him forever.

However, he didn’t have much time to appreciate the breathtaking view before Ouma pulled his face forward and leaned over at the same time, meeting him mid-way and pressing their lips softly together.

Saihara felt something exploding inside of him. Whether it was the butterflies in his stomach taking flight or him having a heart attack, he was unsure.

Just like their first kiss in this exact same park a few days ago, this kiss was just as soft and quite unsure, but enough to take Saihara’s breath away. Ouma’s lips this time didn’t taste like blood, rain and strawberry-flavored lollipop, but like an odd mix of strawberry milkshake, mint and grape; it was a mix that should taste disgusting, but in Ouma’s lips, it tasted like heaven. Saihara could taste it for hours and never get tired.

Saihara sighed in Ouma’s mouth when the boy moved his lips against his, tilting his head slightly to the side to have a better fit of their mouths, melting into the taste of his soft lips. He kissed Ouma back like he needed it to live, not even stopping to wonder if his kiss tasted like tears and his face was sticky with snot, no –he kissed Ouma like Ouma was air and he couldn’t breath, like Ouma was light in a world of darkness.

Because Ouma Kokichi was a hurricane with a heartbeat, and Saihara Shuichi was nothing if a passionate brontophile.

Like their first kiss, this one also wasn’t that long, but still long enough to make both of them breathless. When they were forced to break the kiss because the air made itself necessary, a thin thread of saliva still connected their lips for a brief moment before Ouma backed away, Saihara unconsciously chasing after his lips, both with their eyes closed and a pink blush tinting their cheeks. Ouma giggled softly, eyes still closed, while Saihara just sat there trying to assimilate what just happened.

“Why… Did you do that?” Saihara asked in a low whisper, barely enough for Ouma to hear him, voice breaking a little in the last word, with his eyes also closed. It hurted. It hurted _so much._ “You don’t have to kiss me just to make me feel better. You don’t have to force yourself to accept my feelings, or kiss me if you don't want to-”

“You’re so stupid, Saihara-chan.”

Saihara instantly snapped his eyes open, widening them as his heart started beating faster –oh shit, oh fuck, did he fuck up again? Was Ouma making fun of him? Did Ouma kiss him only to mock him? Why did Ouma-

“I didn’t kiss you only to make you feel better, or am I forcing myself to accept your feelings,” Ouma said, an eyebrow raised, looking deeply inside Saihara’s eyes while caressing his cheeks with his thumbs. “Also, you didn’t ruin our competition last time, or by falling for me. If you’ve done, then I’d be equally guilty.”

“Wh-” Saihara started, frowning. “What?”

Ouma giggled again, closing his eyes. “I mean, I’m not pitying you. I kissed you because I _wanted_ to. After all, you’re helping me with a guide I’m writing.”

Saihara blinked. “A guide?”

“Yes!” Ouma nodded, smiling widely. “I call it _how to fall in love in three easy steps,_ _”_ he said with a smirk, placing his index finger in front of his mouth. “Step number one is: you gotta have someone who would do literally anything for you,” to illustrate this step, Ouma held up his left ring finger, showing the small scar barely visible there. The same finger Saihara bandaged up after he got hurt during the Knife Game. “The second step is: you gotta engage in a ‘kiss it better’ competition with them, and both of you gotta take it seriously,” to illustrate this one, Ouma took Saihara’s right hand and touched his index finger’s digit, where Saihara got that paper cut; there wasn’t a scar there, but both of them knew it was the spot he got cut. Then, still illustrating this step, Ouma pointed at his own mouth, where a small cut on the bottom lip was still healing from that day in this same park when they both fell because of slippery grass and he slit his lip. “And last, but not least… Actually, I think this is the most important step,” this time, Ouma made a pause. He didn’t raise any fingers, or pointed at any parts of each of their bodies, no –instead, he just smiled fondly at Saihara, and cupped his face with both hands. “They have to be _you._ It doesn’t work if it’s not you, Saihara-chan. Shumai. _Shuichi.”_

And maybe it was because he was so high in the moment, in the sound of Ouma’s voice, in the fond look of his eyes that it took so long for him to realize. Maybe he should give up on his title of “Ultimate Detective”, because it took him a hot minute to understand what this all meant.

“Wait,” Saihara said, blinking at Ouma, eyes slightly wide. “Does that mean… You’re also… In love with me?!”

Ouma giggled. “Have been for the past few months, but thanks for noticing.”

 _“Months?!”_ Saihara wheezed. “But the competition started just a month ago? How- how are you-”

“Ah, about that,” Ouma giggled again, although this time was more of an awkward snort. He removed one hand from Saihara’s face to scratch his neck, a hint of a blush tinting his cheeks. His freckles were relatively more evident today, probably courtesy of the cool weather, dirtying his nose. _“... Surprise?”_

 _“Eh?!”_ Saihara gasped, wheezed again. “You were in love with me even _before_ the competition started?!”

“You’re talking like this is a crazy, unreal thought,” Ouma rolled his eyes. “Maybe you fell for me just recently, but I? I knew that I would fall for you one day since the day I first met you, when you stepped into that classroom with your stupid emo hat covering half of your face and introduced yourself as the Ultimate Detective on the verge of an anxiety attack. It was just a matter of time until it happened.”

Saihara still wasn’t convinced. More so, he still didn’t understand why anyone would fall for _him_. “But why?”

“Saihara-chan, my beloved detective, the moon of my world, my future partner in crime. You better listen to me, because I’m about to say the longest thing in my entire life without lying a single time, yes?” Ouma said, cupping Saihara’s face again to hold eye contact. “When we first met, everyone ignored me and pretended I didn’t exist because they quickly found out I was a compulsive liar, but not you. You were the first person to ever try to understand me. To try to help me. To look after me and don’t treat me like a monster. A detective, a person who always seeks for the truth, trying to understand a liar like me, looking after me, willingly being around me. How exactly did you not expect me to fall for you?”

Saihara frowned at the mention of him being a liar, suspiciously. “Are you lying now?”

Ouma smiled fondly. “You could tell if I were.”

Saihara smiled. Ouma had a point.

Leaning over, Saihara caught Ouma’s lips on his again, starting another kiss just as soft as the previous one, with their lips barely moving together and all the smiles and soft giggles between kisses. After a minute or so of kissing, Ouma backed away just a little, making Saihara chase after his lips once more. 

“Ah, this reminds me,” Ouma breathed against Saihara’s lips, not quite touching but still hovering them, smiling. “I think I also bit my tongue that day in the rain. As I record, you didn’t kiss it better, yes?”

Saihara giggled, but didn’t reply. Instead, he held Ouma’s neck and pulled him towards him, catching his lips in another kiss and instantly tilting his head to the side so he could deepen it. This time, Ouma allowed him, sighing in the kiss when their tongues finally touched.

At the same time, still next to them but a little farther away, Shinguji sighed.

“I really, _really_ just wanted a milkshake.”

**Author's Note:**

> I think Kamukura is neat
> 
> Ah!! Because I have zero self-control and am also an artist, [I drew Saihara and Ouma for this fic](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFLEfadlhqv/)!!! Look at them!!! Sweet dumb boys!!! They're in love and dating!!!
> 
> Besides my art ig, ou can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kamukouma) and [tumblr](https://chuwuyas.tumblr.com/)!! You can talk to me or just see me simping for kamukura and kunikida bsd!!!


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